


Hell plays games

by theoneandonlytrash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Oneshot, Reader has a talk with crowley, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:15:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8354743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoneandonlytrash/pseuds/theoneandonlytrash
Summary: Set in season 9 where Crowley is locked up in the men of letters bunker.
You bring Crowley a bit of reading material, feeling bad for the King of Hell being all locked up. What you weren't expecting was the small conversation to take place afterwards. (Oneshot)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a oneshot and my first piece of SPN fanfiction. More to come but I'm starting small aye?

You stared into the eyes of the King of Hell. He sat there in the devil's trap, shackled to the chair that kept him there. You and Dean had slid a table in front of him for when you needed him to write or draw something for you in translation.

“Hello little dove.” He said with a small smile, studying you.

“Crowley.” You nodded back, dragging a chair over to the table and sitting on it backwards.

“What brings you to visit, eh? Need another symbol drawn? Something translated? Or did you want to have a good ol’ chat with Uncle Crowley.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the name he had given himself.

“I’m not your niece there bud.” you said simply, tossing the book you had been holding onto the table.

“Oh? What’s this?” He reached up, grabbing the book and examining the cover. 

“You’re always complainin’ how you want some reading material… I’m not _totally_ heartless.” It would be lying to say a small part of you didn’t feel sympathy for the demon. Being locked up down in the bunker with nothing but his own thoughts and the dark.. Well that could affect even a demon.

You watched his eyes glance up at you, somewhat amused. “Stephen King? The horror writer?” He asked, looking back down to the thick book. You had picked it up from a book store a while back, thinking it could be a nice change of literature instead of old lore and record books. You had already dog eared a few pages and the cover was worn, but it was better than staring at nothing all night long.

“I thought it suited your _horrific_ personality.” You chuckled to yourself, running a hand through your hair. Your relationship with Crowley wasn’t anything that people would look on with envy. Far from it. You considered yourselves… acquaintances. You didn’t hate him… but you weren't particularly fond of him.

“Why?” He asked, tilting his head back a bit and raising his eyebrow. The shadows of his face in the dim light morphed his figure. But you weren't scared.

“Call it sympathy or call it kindness. The boys aren’t always the nicest to you so I figured I would be the bigger person. Demon or not… you’re still locked up in this dusty place.” You stood up, looking around the room. The concrete was chipped and you could make out several cobwebs. Not a homey place. Rubbing your hands together you looked at the demon one last time before nodding and standing up, turning on your heel to leave.

“How are the Winchesters doing? Moose and Squirrel still alive?” He smirked, the question he wanted to ask pining on his tongue.

“Yeah? Why?” You looked over your shoulder at him, frowning a bit. You never said you _trusted_ Crowley. Who would? He’s the King of Hell.

“So are you still dotting after _Dean_ then?” He spoke the older brothers name carefully, enunciating it with emphasis. 

How had he…? Was is obvious…? You stiffened, slowly turning around to look at him.

“How did you-”

“I’m the King of Hell dove. It’s my job to read people.” he narrowed his eyes with a coy smile. “I’d go after the Winchester… seeing as how he looks at you like he’s been in the desert for six months and you’re the only glass of water.” The words of advice rattled around your skull as you processed them.

Your heart thumped, your cheeks turning a dusted pink. He had to be playing with you right? That was the work of a demon. To trick people.

“I’m surprised you haven’t had a sentimental moment that ends with the two of you lovebirds doing the horizontal tango.” He teased, knowing just how to push your buttons.

“Okay _enough._ ” You scoffed, turning back around and balling your fists at your sides as the questions raced through your head. “Dean and I are nothing but friends. Close friends but… that’s where we’ve drawn the line.” It was true. Dean had never made a move on you, nor you him. It had always been comfortable between you two as just friends. Add sex and feelings? That was chaos just waiting to disfigure your relationship.

“And yet you two still love each other. It’s somewhat pathetic if you ask me, but then again what do I know? I’m a demon.”

“Goodbye Crowley.” You sighed, not caring to listen to anymore thoughts he wanted to plant in your head. He cleared his throat as to say one last thing to you but instead heard the loud slam of the door instead. 

“Dove and Squirrel were just made for each other huh…” He tutted.

Little did you know that Crowley had had a similar discussion with Dean… 

Both of you were clueless to each other.

But that made it more fun for the King of Hell now didn’t it?


End file.
